Rebel
by writin
Summary: Alt-History. What if Valentine and the Circle had succeeded all those years ago? Now as the Consul, Valentine has granted himself unlimited power. Clary lives in New York believing she is a Mundane until one of the Shadowhunters finds her and kidnaps her. With the help of the other Shadowhunters, she will fight Valentine.


A boy stood in the night. Around him twelve others milled about, anxious, waiting. He stood out. Something about the way his golden hair caught the moonlight and his calm demeanor made him seem ethereal and distant, like a phantom that had just materialized.

Another boy, with black hair and eyes like sapphires joined him, handing him food. Black marks adorned his hands. This boy was different, beautiful, but substantial. There was a slight jerkiness to his movements, something that made him human and steady, whereas the other seemed likely to fade in the breeze.

"Jace." He said. "I asked and we're almost there, they just want to rest before we fight."

The other looked up, his eyes gold like his hair. "I don't need rest." When he spoke he became more present. A slight smile pulled at his lips.

The blue-eyed boy kicked him. "I know _you_ don't, but the rest of us could use a moment. Walking from dawn till dusk does that."

"Oh good you have food. I'm starving." Jace reached for the other boy's food.

He batted away his marked hand. "Get your own, I've seen you eat, it's a wonder we ever have food in the house."

"Alec, come on."

"No, you said you have energy, use it, get your own food."

Jace sighed dramatically and walked off. While he returned a man began to speak.

"In a few moments we will attack." His voice boomed. Jace sat beside Alec. "Most of you need no reminding but for some _newer_ -" his eyes rested on the two "-ones, I'll say this: these _things_ are not like demons. They may seem _pretty_ , or intelligent, or _human_. But _this is a lie._ They will kill you and your families, same as demons. Do not let them." He finished and chatter returned to the group.

"Damn, Blackwell is laying it on thick." Alec grumbled.

Jace stayed silent.

The group began to move and the chatter ceased. They back clothes and eerily silent tread made them pass unnoticed, past deer in the woods and owls in the trees. They were the silent, dark, clouds that drifted overhead before thunder, lightning, and rain.

Up ahead, a warehouse, abandoned with dark windows, stood silent, seemingly empty.

They approached nonetheless and when the leader, Blackwell, stood before padlocked doors, he pulled for underneath his jacket an object, like a branch pulled from a tree of silver. Holding it he drew a design like the black marks on the warriors. The chains fell away and he pushed open the doors.

All around the group glowing blades flares up from nothingness. They flowed forward into the darkness. Light glowed from the stones in the hands of the warriors.

Silence. Then chaos.

Around them wolves sprung from the shadows. Warriors battled wolves. In the back Alec readied his bow. Jace placed a hand on his arm.

"Wait." He pointed to the far side of the room. "Look." There was a door in the back. It swung open and three more wolves poured out. "That's where they're coming from. Let's go."

"Should we-" Alec started.

Jace grinned, "We can do it."

He hid his light and together they skirted around the battle to the doors. Alec expected more werewolves to pour out, but none came. They slipped past the door.

They were in a dark hallway, but at the end there was light. They continued down it and soon they were past by the plain dark walls. Where the light started, so did doors.

"You get left, I'll get right." Jace ordered.

Alec stepped through a dark doorway and flicked on the light. He didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't this.

There were two small cots, with bright comforters and stuffed animals on the bed. On the walls there were drawings done by small hands. Alec's hands began to shake. This was not what he was told he would find. _They lie_. The words rang in his ear and he passed on.

In the next room even in the darkness he sensed movement. In one movement a drew his bow and flicked on the light.

Two children huddled in the corner, one shielding the other. Alec's bow was pointed at them but he didn't shoot. He just stared. They were small, with curls on their heads. The smaller one had brown curls, and the larger, protecting the smaller had blonde curls,not unlike Jace's. Alec's hands shook. _They lie. They're children._ The thoughts fought back and forth in his head.

A hand fell on his shoulder. Jace. "I-" Alec started. Jace shook his head. For a horrified moment Alec thought Jace would make him fire.

Instead he knelt next to the children unarmed and spoke kinder that Alec had ever heard him speak.

"Do you know another way out?" Jace asked.

The blonde one nodded.

"Go that way now. The others are busy. Run." He urged.

They bolted and Alec's arms went slack.

"Jace-"

"Those aren't cruel eyes. I've seen cruel eyes, even on a child, and those aren't them." He said.

"But Valentine says-" Alec started but even as he spoke he knew it was wrong.

"Valentine lies." Jace growled. He bent his head, and scars, deeper than those left by marks, showed above the neckline of his shirt. "He always lies."

...

Clary walked through the streets of New York. The leaves on the trees burnt red against the crisp, cool air. She held her coffee close and moved quickly, head down, through the troves of people.

On the poles there were pictures I missing children. On the TVs in windows there were stories. Missing children turning up mutilated, or not at all. Tattooed demons, or saviors to some, with the blood of angels took them. It had only gotten bad in the last few years, that's when people started noticing.

Clary thought the whole of it was madness. Some deranged cult or something of that ilk.

She turned into a bookstore and found her friend Simon there.

"Hello, nerd."

He spun around, "I am not a nerd."

"Uh-uh, you're just a very scrawny jock."

"No, I'm cool, skinny is cool." He defended. He moved between the bookcases in the dimly lit store. It was a little run down but in a nice way, like it was old, not bad. They enjoyed sitting in the many chairs. "Besides, until you're an adult skinny is safe."

"Seriously? What are the odds that you, Simon Lewis, are going to be snatched up, even if you are buff."

"Quite probably, my second cousin was."

"Simon you barely know you're first cousins."

"Yes but I don't need to know them I just need to hear about it."

They sat in the chairs in the corner of the store. "Please stop talking like that. My mom might overhear and I suddenly will have to stay inside for a week."

"I can't believe you're mom is so paranoid about these things. I mean she's pretty laid back about other things. When we were little she let us eat raw cookie dough."

"Yes, Jocelyn is laid back about everything that doesn't have a pulse or has the name 'Simon'."

"Will she let you come to the show tonight?"

"She's agreed to that, but with that little distrust undercurrent in her tone." She sipped her coffee.

"Well, she said yes, that's all that matters."

Clary's phone buzzed. It was her mom.

"Yes?" She sighed into it.

"Clary, where are you?" Her mother sounded panicked as usual.

"I'm at the bookstore with Simon, why?" She said calmly.

"Come home now, keep your hood up and your hair tucked in."

"Mom, I just got out, what could possibly have happened in the ten minutes I've been gone."

"A lot. Come home now, hide your hair, keep your head down. No matter what you see don't draw attention to yourself or make eye contact."

"Fine." Clary sighed and hung up. She turned to Simon. "I've got to go."

"Seriously?" He caught his tone. "I mean at your mother, a very empathetic 'seriously' to you."

"I know. Bye nerd."

"Bye ginger."

She grinned but as soon as she was out the door it left. She tied back her mane of curls and slung up her hood. As much as she hated her mother calling her home, she wasn't going to start a fight. Whatever her mom was upset about she would sort it out and go to Simon's show, no matter what.

When she neared her apartment she saw the flashing light and the blare of sirens. Police cars were outside a house a few doors down. Even from far away, Clary could see the distinctive shape of medics moving a stretcher, and on the stretcher the unmistakeable, disfigured silhouette, covered in a blackened sheet.

So that was what 'a lot' meant.

She reached her door but felt a prickling on the back of her neck. When she turned she found the source. A man-a boy really-of about eighteen, with hair devoid of color and eyes devoid of light. Her stared at her and she met his eyes.

Just then her door opened and an arm pulled her inside. "What were you just doing?" Her mother whispered. She peered through the blinds over the window. Clary glanced over too but the boy was gone.

"I got distracted. It was only a few seconds." Clary grumbled

Her mother glanced back at Clary, and when she spoke it was softer. "I'm sorry about all this, but I worry. We live in a dangerous world and I want you to be safe."

They stood in the foyer of their apartment building. The ground floor apartment belonged to a fortune teller, they owned the next floor up.

"I know mom." Clary said, and walked up to the apartment.

When they were inside her mother looked out the window. Clary joined her.

Outside the ambulance was driving off. Not speeding, the person was already dead. Two figure stood out on the street, one holding the other. Both shook with cries the didn't reach the two in the apartment.

This is what happened to the children who were taken. They either never returned or were left, disfigured, barely recognizable for the parents to find. It was enough to make anyone worry.

Clary sat down and Luke, her mother's closest friend, entered.

"Hey, Chipmunk." He said and ruffled her hair with a smile, but that look fell from his face when he saw Jocelyn. He moved closer to her and murmured something. Their voices raised slightly and then hushed.

Her mother turned to her. "Clary stay here, Luke and I have to check on something."

They left and after a moment Clary followed silently.

When she was just outside their door she heard hushed voices. She crept down the hallway and just before it opened into the foyer she stopped. Crouched just around the corner, she listened.

"Not today." Her mother's voice.

"You said that yesterday, what is going on?" An unfamiliar voice said impatiently.

"They are in the area, their best. Anything happens and they'll be drawn straight here."

"A mistake? You know I'm better than that."

"I don't want to risk it." A pause. Her mother spoke again, softer. "If _they_ are here, couldn't you-"

"No." The voice said firmly. "I'm not one of those people who fight a lost cause."

"But your friends-"

"Are better than I am. There no life in rebellion."

Clary's curiosity got the better of her. Nothing they said made sense. She had to see who this person was. She glanced around the corner.

Luke stood by the window, looking out at the scene in the street. Her mother stood a ways in speaking to an unusual man.

Her was young, dressed eccentrically with make-up on his face. He was oddly styled but none of that compared to his eyes. They glowed yellow-green with the slit-pupil shape of a cat's. Clary stared, and realized after a moment that he was staring back at her.

Suddenly her vision blurred, and when it came back Luke was standing beside her mother, and they were both looking right at her.

"Clary, I told you to stay there." Her mother growled.

Clary stood defiantly. "What is going on?"

"Nothing. Go to your room, now."

"No."

"Clary-"

"No!" Clary shouted. "I'm tired of being cooped up in here. I'm tired of acting afraid all the time. I'm leaving to go to Simon's show, and none of your paranoia is going to keep me here." She ran down the stairs.

Her mother grabbed her arm. "Clary!"

She shook it off and swung open the door.

"Clary!"

She ignored her mother and ran out. She could hear footsteps chasing after her. Clary turned a corner and ducked in a cafe. Her mother raced by. After a moment she snuck out and headed in the opposite direction. Now that she was walking she felt the cold sting her hands. She was only in jeans and a shirt and it was freezing outside. She started to head back to the house when she saw the boy again at the end of the road.

Her heart skipped and then sat, weighted with some instinct to run as the boy looked at her.

She turned and began to run, but a hand wrapped around her arm. She slipped, and he pulled her into his chest. He moved so quickly Clary couldn't even think before the world went black.


End file.
